


The Beginning of a Beautiful Ownership

by courgette96



Series: Lords of Wild Space [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Hux is Not Nice, Lady Hux raised him, M/M, Slave Kylo Ren, Violence, mention of rape, violence kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-08 08:24:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6846898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/courgette96/pseuds/courgette96
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is always awkward having to deal with unwanted gifts. Especially when they are from your mother. </p><p>Especially when said gift is perhaps the most poorly trained slave Hux has ever seen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Beginning of a Beautiful Ownership

**Author's Note:**

  * For [5ofSpades](https://archiveofourown.org/users/5ofSpades/gifts).



> Prompt from the amazing 5ofspades, who wanted something from when Hux met Kylo. Also, she is OP on the kinkmeme, so deserves credit for coming up with this verse.
> 
> Beta-d by Wren_ofthewildwood. She deserves full credit for making this fic readable.

Not for the first time in his life, Brendan Hux was reminded that his mother was from a different era.

It seemed like such a dramatic statement, even in his own mind, but that made it no less true. Despite being only thirty years older than him, his mother had known an entire different regime and lifestyle before being cast out to the Outer Rim. She had lived under the Empire, and with that came certain habits and views that even the rough life of an exile couldn’t take away.

For instance, there was the belief that a man of success and work needed some form of distraction to release tension.

More crudely, workaholics need sex.

She had mentioned that to Hux more than once, with varying levels of insistence. Hux had listened politely, refused firmly, and had believed that to have been the end of it.

In hindsight, he really should have known better. His mother was ever so prone to initiative when she believed herself to be right.

So she had bought him a pleasure slave. And after he had refused the gift, had demanded that he “give it a chance”, before informing him that she would not relent until he at least considered the gift. So, for the sake of peace and quiet and good relations with his mother, he had agreed.

Which had brought him here, in one of the unused rooms of the base, studying the newly acquired slave he never even wanted.

The slave was a dark-haired man, forced into a kneeling position by heavy, gilded chains, and a collar that was intricately carved and plated with silver. (Before Hux’s army had forcefully repossessed this compound, it had been the property of a particularly lascivious Hutt. Once settled, it had seemed a shame to get rid of the many restraining devices that came with the place, no matter how ridiculous the warlord thought they looked.) His chest was bare, his hair was combed, his face was shaven; in short, he was well-groomed, with more effort than any slaver would be likely to put into their merchandise.

Evidently, his mother was more than determined that he find her gift pleasant. Hux didn’t want to know just how far she went. It was enough that she hadn’t covered the slave in scented oils or dressed him in those two-pieced outfit that were so very popular in this area.

“What is your name?” he asked the glaring figure on the ground. The sooner he got the conversation done with, the sooner he could return to his work.

“Kriff you!”  

Well then. 

Hux resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. He hadn’t asked for this. He shouldn’t have to deal with this.  

Yet here he is, and he has never been one to shy away from the task at hand. “I believe the proper form of address would be “Kriff you,  _sir_ ,”” he said drily. “Now tell me again, what is your name?” 

The man only clenched his jaw, and glared harder. 

Hux rolled his eyes. “Tell me your name, or I’ll just call you “boy”. A slave needs no more name than that.” 

That, finally, got a reaction out of his newly acquired property. “Ben,” the man spat out, as reluctantly and unpleasantly as he could manage.  

His voice was surprisingly deep, Hux noted. Not that it seemed out of place on a man of his build, but there was a certain air to the slave, an uncertainty and awkward skittishness that gave him an almost childish look.  

Looking closer, the warlord could see that wasn’t the only contradiction to the man. The aggression Ben displayed strangely seemed both genuine and put upon, for he behaved both like a dangerous beast and like a small animal trying to make itself seem bigger. Like he was equally likely to lash out or curl into a ball. 

There was likely much to be deduced from this, but Hux had neither the time nor the inclination to. “Ben,” he repeated slowly. “I don’t like it.” 

And back to sullen silence it was. No matter, Hux decided, he didn’t need the slave’s input anyway.

“Do you know why my mother bought you, Ben?” he continued, vaguely surprised when the slave deigned to nod. “Then let me add that I am very surprised she bothered at all. She usually has far better taste, you see.” 

“Am I not pretty enough for you?” Ben sneered. How a slave could go on for so long without having the insolence beaten out of him, Hux could only wonder. 

“Well, the ears are rather distracting,” he shot back. 

“Then close your eyes when you take me.” 

Hux rolled his eyes at the euphemism. “When I take you,” he repeated mockingly. “A gentle word. Why not say “fucking” instead?” 

Ben recoiled at that, blushing furiously.  

Oh Maker. An insolent  _and_  prudish sex slave. How in the Galaxy did Ben not get culled long before today?  

More pressingly, what kind of incompetents had been in charge of training him? Hux needed to make sure he never engaged in business with them ever again.  

“Call it what you like,” Ben said finally. “I won’t let you touch me.” 

Of course he won’t, Hux thought tiredly. 

He didn’t care, truly he didn’t. It didn’t matter if the boy was disposed or not to do the task he had been bought for, because Hux had no desire to indulge in such petty distractions. And even if he did, he would not waste his energy forcing himself on the boy when there were more than enough ambitious men and women willing to spread their legs for the warlord.  

It was the principle of it all that annoyed him. It was the mind boggling fact that rather than try to make himself appealing enough to keep alive, like anyone with a modicum of common sense, Ben seemed determine to antagonize the one person in charge of his fate.  

Of all the slaves his mother could have bought, she  _had_ to pick the most reckless, tiresome, idiotic one Hux had ever met. 

“You won’t let me touch you,” he repeated, addressing the slave once more. “Are you so sure?” 

Ben raised his chin defiantly. “You are not so charming.” 

“Perhaps not, but that wasn’t my point.” Hux slowly stepped forward as he spoke, forcing Ben to crane his neck higher and higher to keep eye contact. “I am the head of a very large army, you see _._ Many mouths to feed. Many needs to satisfy. And I pride myself on not being wasteful.” He took out his blaster from his holster, making sure the slave caught the movement. “Nothing frivolous. Nothing useless.” 

Slowly, he raised the blaster, until it was inches away from Ben’s face, aiming right between his eyes. The slave stiffened, proving that he was, in fact, capable of sensible reactions. 

Hux took it as a sign that his next point would be fully understood. “Tell me,  _boy_ ,” he said sweetly. “What use is a pleasure slave that won’t put out?” 

Ben stared in his eyes for a long time, clenching his jaw tighter and tighter until Hux was certain his teeth would crack. Finally, he looked away, though it wasn’t in submission. Rather, he gave the impression that Hux was inconveniencing him too much to bear any longer.

Hux really ought to just shoot him for that. He really didn’t need to invest so much energy just to put up with a slave he didn’t even want.

 _Give the boy a chance,_ he heard his mother’s voice croon in his mind. Lady Hux would be most displeased if her gift were so brutally rejected. Hux was reminded that, beyond being hurtful, it would be terribly rude to shoot said gift in the face.

At least, before a week was up; after that, a token of an effort would have been made, and he could not be blamed. 

“Think on it,” he said, pocketing the blaster. He turned on his heels and left the room, not looking back at the slave he left behind.

He had barely closed the door behind him when he was assaulted by his mother’s elegant drawl.

“You were in there for barely five minutes,” Lady Hux commented, arms crossed as she leaned against the wall. “Either you don’t know what to use the gift for, or it was direly needed.”

“Mother,” Hux sighed. “Were you only waiting outside the room, or were you listening in as well?”

“Do you like him, at least?” she asked instead of answering. “I saw him on display, and I thought of you.”

Hux began to walk away, certain his mother would follow until she had her answer. “His looks are unconventional, but not unpleasing,” he conceded, the education bestowed upon him requiring him to say _something_ positive about the gift. “His personality, on the other hand…”

From the corner of his eye, he could see her shrug. “You never liked meekness.”

“And a Force user…” he added more pointedly. It seemed like such an unnecessary risk, even with the Force suppressing shackles firmly in place. 

“Oh, your constant complaining!” Lady Hux huffed, waving her hand dismissively. “I thought you would like some danger and fight in him! You never could separate work from play

 “Which will not be an issue, since I intend to do neither with him,” he retorted as they came to an intersection. He turned towards her, voice more gentle as he took her hand. “I appreciate the intent, truly, but I did warn you I wouldn’t indulge.”

Her lips pursed in displeasure, but she allowed him to kiss the back of her fingers. The old gesture from her Imperial days placated her slightly. “And I suppose buying another one wouldn’t help matters any, would it?” she said, both resigned and exasperated.

“There’s no need for any help,” Hux answered, turning back to return to his duties. “I simply have no interest.”

 

**~*~**

 

 _Oh_ , Hux thought _, this is interesting_.

When he had been warned that three of his men had decided to try out the goods, he had been filled with angry exasperation. Anger, because those three warriors had no right to touch Hux’s property, no matter what it was. That they would take such liberties was the kind of insubordination the warlord thought he had eliminated from his troops.

Exasperation, because it had barely been four hours since the slave had been in camp, and already it was causing disorder.

Now though, those two emotions had vanished completely in favor of a different one entirely, one that if he were a lesser man would make him fidget and flush and breathe heavily. Hux did none of those things, but he still took in the sight before him for future late-night uses.

Whatever punishment he had in mind for the three warriors was now moot. He couldn’t be upset at the breach in procedure though, because the slave boy had done an _exquisite_ job on his own.

The first of the trio was lying on his stomach, dead, a pool of blood forming around him from the injury on his neck. His arteries and jugular were ripped open. Given the lack of sharp objects in the room, Hux had a fair idea of what precisely Ben had used to cut through the flesh. (The blood running down the slave’s chin was also a clue.)

The second one was sprawled a few steps further, dead as well. His neck was twisted at an unnatural angle, and several of his limbs were either dislocated or broken. Bone was jutting out from the skin in more than a few places.

The third one was lying just steps away from Hux, still alive and moaning, bleeding heavily from a wound on his leg. His broken hands were cradled around the injured limb, which was probably too mangled to be saved anyway.

Hux shot him. Prosthetic legs were expensive, and he wasn’t going to waste one on a treasonous element.

Ben looked at him, breathing heavily, body still tense and ready to fight. Hux deliberately lowered his blaster, tucking it back into its holster.

“For the record,” he said conversationally, “I didn’t give them permission to come here.”

Ben barked out a dark laugh. “What do you care what they do to me, if you don’t want me? Or did you change your mind?”

Quite frankly, yes, but Hux was fairly certain his immediate arousal would abate once Ben washed the blood off himself. Which would be soon, because to let him walk around like that would be deeply unsanitary and profoundly distracting. Hux still had half a day’s work to do, and he could not spend his time thinking of how wonderfully the red contrasted with Ben’s coloring or imagining all the different ways that strength and feral nature could be applied when….

He cleared his throat. “Trust me, even if I did intend to force myself on you – which I still don’t – this little display would certainly change my mind.”

Ben didn’t laugh at the quip, not that Hux expected him to. His eyes narrowed. “I killed your men. Aren’t you going to punish me?”

“That one there,” the warlord asked in lieu of an answer, jerking his head towards the dislocated corpse, “how did you break the bones? You’re not that strong.”

Ben blinked slowly, expression guarded as he studied Hux’s face. When he was satisfied he wasn’t going to be killed for answering, he raised his arms slowly, showing the Force dampening shackles. “These are getting old. They malfunction at times.” He paused. “And I was very angry.”

After that answer, the warlord was assured of three things.

First, whichever slave driver had been in charge of Ben was sloppy at his job, and would never be doing business with Hux again.

Secondly, Hux needed to make sure his slave never got that angry again, if only for his immediate safety.

Thirdly, his mother had wanted a pleasure slave, but serendipity had given him something else entirely.

“Impressive, Ben,” he said slowly, watching as the slave blinked in shock at the compliment. “I wonder what else you could do.”

Ben let out an incredulous laugh. “Do you want to find out?” he asked, half in defiance and half in true curiosity. For the first time since he arrived here, tension was leaving his shoulders, and his expression turned, if not hopeful, at least no longer full of dread.

Hux’s lips pulled into a shark-like grin. “Yes, Ben, I rather do.”

Ben looked at him for a moment longer, before tentatively smiling back. His grin was eager, and his eyes shone at the promise of unleashing the violence years of slavery had built within him.

Hux needed to thank his mother after all. She truly had exquisite taste.

 

**Author's Note:**

> If any of you have a prompt for this verse, hit me up on tumblr! Or if you want to come and talk about Kylux, or just talk. ^^


End file.
